


the first year

by Wildehack (tyleet)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 07:36:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19194532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyleet/pseuds/Wildehack
Summary: "So I--I guess I think it's been a good year," Jon says.





	the first year

**Author's Note:**

> Written for somuchbetterthat on tumblr, with the prompt: "anything about Jon's first months/years at the Institute" :)

1.   
  
The new hire seems like a bit of a jerk, so of course Martin likes him right away. He’s a distracted professor type, almost parodically so. He wears costly brown-leather brogues and wrinkled trousers, jackets with elbow-patches on them, nice dress shirts with the buttons misaligned. He’s got permanent shadows under his eyes, and greying curls, and he’s inevitably either scowling at his computer or his subordinates, although Martin optimistically thinks maybe that’s just how his face rests. He also talks like he’s on a period drama, which Martin supposes goes with the brogues. And the first from Magdalen. And the master’s degree from St Andrews that he probably didn’t lie about on his CV.   
  
Martin isn’t working with him directly–Emma has him on a long-term project for another six weeks-–but Tim makes a sour face about it whenever they get to talking at lunch.   
  
“He’s thorough,” Sasha explains, giving Tim a quelling look before stealing a chip from his plate. 

“He’s _type A_ ,” Tim says, like this is a cardinal sin. “Wants to know everything. Even the irrelevant stuff. You should see the stuff he had me dig up on Robert Smirke.”   
  
Martin knows better than to ask who Robert Smirke is. It’s amazing how many sins Google can cover up for him. “Is he nice, though?”   
  
“Oh, totally,” Sasha says.   
  
“He’s a workaholic,” Tim corrects her. “Practically a robot.” He tilts his head at Martin consideringly. “That’s your type, though, Martin, isn’t it? Cybermen?”   
  
Martin colors.  
  
“Just because he’s not interested in  _you_ doesn’t make him a _Cyberman_ ,” Sasha says, and Tim pushes her glasses up her nose from where they’ve slid down with the very tip of his finger.

Martin gets up just then to throw away the rest of his lunch, which means he rounds the corner just in time to see the new guy step into the canteen, a distracted line between his brows. For a second Martin is worried he overheard them, but he doesn’t even glance at Martin, stepping around him like Martin might as well be a post.   
  
“Hey,” Martin says impulsively, and regrets it when the new guy turns around, now looking directly at him. He has kind of an intense stare, Martin thinks vaguely, although he has nice eyes, black and enormous. The scowl is still there.   
  
“Well?” the new guy asks, brusque.   
  
“I, I just wanted to say welcome to the department,” Martin says. “It’s-–we’re the nice ones, probably the-–least weird branch of the Institute after HR, so-–yeah, welcome.”   
  
“…I see,” the new guy says after an uncomfortable pause, in the middle of which Martin’s ears start burning. “Well, thank you, Melvin.”   
  
Martin goes back to his desk, bright red.   
  
The next time Tim complains about the new researcher, getting off on a tangent about Jon’s stupid, put-on accent and his pretentious jacket, Martin says, without thinking: “he does have striking eyes, though,” and Tim doesn’t let it go for three months.   
  
Jon doesn’t learn Martin’s name until Martin finishes the project for Emma and promptly bungles his first assignment for Jon. It’d be really great if Martin were the kind of person who didn’t feel a little frisson down his spine at the sound of his superior saying his name like it’s a synonym for “embarrassment,” but unfortunately he doesn’t live in that kind of world. 

2. 

Jon becomes Sasha’s favorite researcher a few months after he starts. Specifically, the first time he winds up sending her to an actual graveyard to determine whether a particularly ornate tomb was actually designed by Robert Smirke or not. She takes photos and video, looks for ghosts but doesn’t find any, and after she texts her findings to Jon he winds up driving down to meet her and have a closer look at the tomb himself. He brings Tesco sandwiches, and got one meat and one without just in case she was vegetarian, and they eat Doritos while examining cornices together. Jon gets more animated than she’s ever seen him before, talking about the collision of eighteenth century architecture,  _memento mori_ , and the occult.   
  
“You know, you’re kind of a nerd, Sims,” she says on the ride back. (She took the train down, and privately enjoys that Jon’s car is a piece of shit, even though the haircut he needs to book soon will undoubtedly be expensive.)   
  
 “I’d hope so,” he says drily, not looking away from the road. “Considering my job.”   
  
“Oh, it’s a good thing,” Sasha assures him. “I can’t stand people who aren’t nerdy.”   
  
Jon does glance at her then, a quick thing from under his unruly hair. The pause that follows is oddly uncertain.   
  
“Okay,” Sasha says, resting one foot on the dashboard just to see if he’ll say anything (he doesn’t.) “Tell me some more about eighteenth century occultists.”   
  
Jon lights up.  
  
3.   
  
There really isn’t a lot of interaction between the Archives and the research library, for obvious reasons.   
  
The first time Gertrude claps eyes on Elias’s little threat in the hallway, she stops dead in her tracks. He’s hardly menacing in and of himself-–he’s slight, tired-looking, obviously socially anxious. There’s a mustard stain on his shirt that’s been ineffectually scrubbed at in a lavatory, little flecks of paper towel left on the fabric. He’s been touched by the Web, but lightly and long ago, and anyway the Web is an ally. Elias’s mark is so deep on him he’s nearly glowing with it, even to the naked eye. He hardly notices her at all, much less Sees her. Very likely he’ll be snapped up by something or other after a few years of work, if Elias ever manages to get him out of the library.   
  
But still, the potential is there.   
  
She makes a mental note to call Jurgen the next time she finds herself shielded. They may have to move up the timeline.   
  
4.   
  
Tim asks Jon to join them down at the pub every Friday for four months running, just to see Jon tie himself into increasingly worse knots with every new excuse he has for not joining them.   
  
Eventually Sasha gets sick of it and claps a hand over his mouth before he can issue that week’s invitation. “Stop being a bastard,” she says into his ear. “See you Monday, Jon.”   
  
“See you,” Jon says. 

Tim’s not even sure he noticed Sasha’s intervention. 

Prick.

5.  
  
Elias looks forward to year-end performance reviews. 

This one, he is looking forward to savoring in particular.   
  
“Come in,” he says, holding open his office door. He retreats behind the desk, and lets Jon awkwardly settle into the chair on the other side. It’s designed to be just uncomfortable enough to give the person on the other side of the desk an edge, although of course Elias doesn’t need it. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?”   
  
Jon declines, although he would find tea a comfort. Elias has Rosie bring them in two black coffees.   
  
“How’s it been going?” Elias asks when Jon is uneasily clutching the coffee in his hands. He smiles while Jon fumbles his way through a summary of his first year of work, and observes him.   
  
Jon has had a bad year. 

He’s broken up with his girlfriend-–that’s the Beholding’s influence, although a cursory glance at Jon’s memory of the fight he had with Georgie at the cinema tells Elias the relationship was doomed anyway. He tells himself he misses the cat more than the woman, although that’s not true. He’s also lost his grandmother to natural causes, which hit him a bit harder than it might hit the average twenty-five year old, as he was raised by her. He’s been reflecting about that experience a great deal, examining the ways she was a failure as a caregiver and the ways he was a failure as a grandson, perfectly ruthless. Elias delights in it, the scrupulous cruelty that Jon is already turning on himself as much as the world. 

The only good thing that’s happened to Jon this year is this job. He likes his coworkers, for the most part. He likes the work, although of course Elias hasn’t been able to get him close to any of the real work, yet. Work is the only real thing Jon has looked forward to in months. It’s rapidly becoming an obsession.   
  
He’s going to be  _magnificent_ , provided Elias can keep him alive for long enough to actually ascend.   
  
“So, I-–I guess I think it’s been a good year,” Jon is finishing, trying extremely hard not to seem anxious. He needs this job. Not for the money-–three life insurance policies do plenty–-but still. Already, he  _needs_  it. “I’ve certainly learned a lot.”   
  
Elias smiles at him, and something like tenderness rustles in the general area of his ribcage. It’s been years. “That’s marvelous, Jon,” Elias says sincerely. “I’ve learned a lot, too.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me at wildehacked.tumblr.com if you wanna help me get through this hiatus thing
> 
> https://wildehacked.tumblr.com/post/185548331080/i-dont-know-if-youre-still-taking-tma-prompts if you want to reblog there


End file.
